


Only with you

by ddeiSmile



Series: In the night [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut, lots of warnings inside, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7138298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddeiSmile/pseuds/ddeiSmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marinette came, she broke all those rules, making it not about how sad he was, or teaching him some lesson, but more of how she would always be the most beautiful thing he had ever had the privilege to touch. It was about love and support. She meant a new beginning, a place where he was safe, where she was the air in his lungs and he was more than grateful for that.</p><p>* second part of Only with the moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS at the end of the chapter. PLEASE, read before the notes.
> 
> * Special thanks to Simon, who helped him even if he didn't know, and to lil_fangirl27, who gave me this amazing cheers for luck that helped me a lot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: this is pure smut. I think this is something that would happen a lot between them, maybe because they're French? Hope that doesn't sound bad. There's rape, nothing explicit or agressive, but rape nonetheless. Angst, of course.<  
> ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, SO READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK.  
> I didn't mention it, but in the first part they are like twenty five, here they have twenty six.
> 
> * Special thanks to Simon, who helped me even if he didn't know, and to lil_fangirl27, who gave me this amazing cheers for luck that helped me a lot!

That night tasted like desolation, harsh kisses on his lips, back against the cold floor, lugs pressed by hands that didn’t care for anything more than a selfish desire. But he too gave his body to an egoistic wish—the need to be loved, even if it was just a lie. He remembers blonde hair, a green skirt, but besides that, it all had been darkness and a faint pleasure that had had him gasping for air until all exploded. Adrien never saw more into it, didn’t mattered it had been done without his consent: just a violent push against a vacant cleaning room and a forced pull of his pants, he had clung for dear life to those hips after he saw in her clouded eyes emptiness, sorrow, a pained look swallowed by desire; despite the dusky room, he reflected in her, found that girl as lost as he was. When she got up without even saying a goodbye or an apology, he stayed in the same position crying his heart out. The reason wasn’t he had lost his virginity in a cruel way or in that he was still an awkward fifteen years old boy; no, it had been because he lost all strength to lie, fake a smile, be nothing but the perfect son. He felt embarrassment, loneliness, but also something more that made him feel relieved, capable of showing his true emotions in a moment of weakness, but also to give love even if it was to a lie.

Adrien pressed his lips against Marinette’s pubic bone, enjoying the way her unique scent filled him up, replacing any thought in his head that wasn’t about her. There was no parts unknown, no rush for anything, just her, sweet and ready, under his body. He searched for her eyes in the dim lights only to find what he already knew: this night she was willing to let him do whatever he wanted. The truth drawn him to press another kiss right there, slowly, testing the way her soft skin gave away, sinking until he felt the bone once more. When the third pressure of his lips fell over her clit, Marinette's heart responded, beating as hard as his against his mouth, she contained a scream while her core shuddered, her hips bucking up, making him lose the contact for a brief moment and when they went down again, Adrien's hands were there, waiting to grab her derrière with a vicious hunger that spread through all his body, so he kissed her left hip, the inside of the thigh, the knee, a bite to her calf and suddenly he was submerged in a journey of pure perfection. She followed him, traveling until the tip of her fingers touched her hot and wet flesh. He saw her by the corner of his eyes, not stopping the ministration to her legs, but he did slow down and suited himself for the show. She knew he was watching, she needed him to see, because Marinette had never been good at words: she talked with actions that he understood with precious caring: the kisses on his jaw, the tender hugs, the loving looks, they were all the reason why he continued living.

He learned  what freedom was when  Plagg came to his life, then what happiness meant when he set food on Marinette’s balcony; but, desolation?, he couldn’t recall when did he learn about that emotion. It probably settled in his veins when his mother died, growing as the days went by. Before this, before her, he would have been transformed, desperate to get away from a big house with echoes that had always haunted him, finding stillness by the Eiffel tower as the night fell over Paris, with thoughts of voids feelings that crept inside of him, roaming through his bones, making him ask to himself constantly how could he be so vain? Marinette called his name, waking that adoration in him, a pull that went straight to his chest, making him fasten his way to her insides (literally and figuratively). With a smile, Adrien hovered over her knee, kissing some bruises away, marveling over the fact that she had change it all now there was music, laughs and flowers. He had afternoons with her napping in his chest while he read a book or too, walks by the Seine with fingers entwined, nights with her sweet snoring by his ear. The warmth of the love he felt for this woman –for her ankle, the plant of her feet, the instep and her little toes– was just overwhelming.

"How can you be so beautiful," he whispered, mouth pressed against her skin.

Marinette reacted to the blush he ignited by pushing her right feet against his shoulder, making him withdraw slightly with smirk. He grasped the back of her knees to lift her legs, opening her so that he could press his face against the already wet fingers that had been pleasing her while he played. He started nuzzling against them like a little cat, kissing the back of her hand, helping with a little more of pressure, tongue licking his way between each digit. She didn’t stop the movements, he didn’t want her to.

His second time, he had the idiotic manners of a seventeen years old, so when a girl with vast blue eyes approached him with such a self-security, he only managed to say a stuttering yes, without even asking for her name. She taught him how to put a condom, how to slip his fingers inside a woman and make her cum just with them, she let him explore until the sadness, the pleasure and the slumber became one. When he returned home, he cried in his bed silently, but again that sensation was there: a slight peace, a possibility of taking out everything he never could before. That was the moment he started to cross the line between what was just sex and a sour completion. He craved for those seconds were he wasn’t himself, wasn't in love with a brunette who always rejected him, were he wasn't the son of an absent father, a deceased mother; were he wasn't a sad kid trapped in a cage, playing to be a superhero. Adrien left his innocence voluntarily, in a trade to forget, to let out everything it hurt, even if it was never enough. The encounters repeated with her a few more times despite Nino and Plagg’s disapproval, but in the end she got tired of him and his broken sobs.

Marinette had brought back to his life something that was close to that life in a way: once again it just wasn't enough: he couldn’t have enough of her, he felt it when his teeths sank hard in her buttocks, when he heard her hiss with pain, then again with delight as he started to lick her from the center of her rear to the pubic bone, like the hungry animal he transformed to when he was with her. Marinette stopped breathing, she latched onto his strands with both hands, feeling him repeat the action over and over again, slurping, humming, purring with such a delight that in her screams of pleasure she wasn’t sure if she should feel this good or just explode of embarrassment. He loved the way she whimpered, how she tried desperately to push him away, losing her head. He clutched the sides of her hips to stop her movements, pressing the curve of her ass up to her waist, like he had done so many times before to bury himself until there was nothing more than thin air between their bodies. This time it was just a prod, he wanted to feel again how her skin yields under his big hands, he relished in perceiving her bones, softness, warm blood flushing her, those things that reassured him that Marinette was alive and by his side.

In his youth, he didn’t understood what love making was. He never did until he really saw Marinette and for that long years of hollow pleasure had to gone by. His life had been so condemn that even something this beautiful became a struggle. In forlorn nights, when Plagg was fast asleep, he would push his hand inside his pants and curl over nothing more than remorse, fright of ending his days being this alone, of reaching the pitch of his life only to realize that he still sought compassion in women that didn’t care for him, and with that notion in his head he would cum, a broken cry and wetness in his hand being the only prove that he was still alive. He know could prove it when Marinette stirred, trying to control her breath and tears, just like he had done on those nights of solitude, but in this moment there was light, love, passion, the certainty that she needed him in all the possible ways, just as much as he needed her.

His eyes followed the journey of her tears to the sweet movement of her chest, making his tongue tingle with the urge of eating every last one freckle. The night he showed her he was Chat Noir, she embraced him until he stopped crying, the memory of his mother in her last goodbye hitting him so hard that even when the sky turned blue, the tears kept falling down. With time he discovered Tikki and the secret she had guarded from him until he could assimilate it. After that, they fell into a routine where he didn’t realized until it was too late that he had become addicted to her. It was like a force in his chest that rushed through his arms and legs, he wanted to explore her, wreck her, and then fuck her until they both couldn't anymore. He yearned for her in a way he wasn’t sure it was healthy. With a strong grip he draw her curves whilst his lips lingered over her belly, there he kissed the thin line of hair that came to her navel, where he left a bite or two, having the impulse to paint her with red marks of property. He was new to all this, as he had told her the first time he spoke to her: he had never had a friend when he was fourteen; he had never had a person to love and love him in return.

Her legs fell on his sides and as he moved forward she was able to map his torso, hips, thighs, savoring his muscular frame in the only way she could. Marinette knew how much Adrien needed this moment of catharsis: of having her under his complete mercy. She didn’t comprehend the reason, it was beyond her understanding as so many other things of him, of a past she still didn’t dare to ask about. Maybe this was his way of telling her that he loved her more than anything –just like she did in her own way–, even if she thought it wasn't needed because she could see it when he looked at her, in the way he clutched her waist: enough to protect her from everything and everyone, but also acknowledging her strength, or in all those little things that he gave to her every day, eager to please her. Maybe this was his way of calming the fright he felt of losing her, because she knew how much he fought against the impulse of keeping her only to himself. She always read through him, he always had. That’s why covered his mouth, trying to stop him: she knew where he was going, what were his intention. Adrien smiled, simply kissing her nails, the palm, the fingers and with each movement memories of her thin frame in a red suite, so unattainable, overflowed in the back of his mind.

When he was eighteen he tried to reach to her, to Ladybug, the fear of falling out of love, of losing the only beautiful thing in his life clouding his thoughts; but before he could blurt out words of devotion, he saw her face contract in agony, like a physical pain she broke in front of his eyes for an instant. It was funny now, but at that time, hearing Ladybug suffer for a boy who had changed green innocent eyes for ones that could only see the disappointment in life, made him crumple in silence: she cared about someone else and that person didn’t reciprocate, which made him an idiot, something even harder to swallow. Who would had thought he was the idiot. They both had made each other suffer, but it also helped them (him) to move forward, to rely on the other in a friend-relationship that even now, with her touches through his cheek and soft hair slightly damp because of the effort, it felt like the best decision he had ever made.

Adrien ascended, a fast nibble dropped to her ribcage, before pressing his hands to the sides of her breast, pressing them together in the center of her chest. Marinette’s eyes fell on him, he could felt it, would have loved to drown in those perfect beautiful blue eyes, but he was trapped by her luscious brownish nipples and the way they moved with her breath. He first kissed a freckle in the underside of the right udder, then captured it with his mouth. She whimpered, hot and sensitive, more now that he started to suck her with such a strength that she didn’t even realize when did her fingernails started to draw red furious marks at his nape and back. Adrien didn’t care, he was too caught up taking more from her, eating her alive. He had learned how much this affected Marinette, how good she felt when he touched her there, he was making her desperate for more just like he was, but he would take his time, his tongue swirling around the reddened areola as to lick the saliva before nuzzling against both of her tits: first in the center of her chest, then to the left and back to the right. A purr came and even in her distress, that made her laugh. He felt the warmth spread across his chest.

After the incident with Ladybug, he stopped his uncaring encounters for a long time. Nino called it growing up, maturing, but Adrien didn’t know what that was exactly and doubted Nino did. He tried to date a girl or two, led by his friend’s advice, but nothing ever lasted. He was broken. In a point of his life, he even fancied the idea of becoming Chat Noir forever: no more Adrien, a whim that deepened when the truth of his father revealed. The memory made him open his eyes opened to look at Marinette: her blushed face, lidded eyes, lips parted, touches left to his tense muscles, encouraging, loving him. She had saved him so many times, in so many ways.

He kissed his way through her chest, engulfing the soft flesh, biting, incapable of holding his desire. Like before, the attentions followed the trails of her freckles, from the bottom to her clavicles. Adrien straighten then, shifting her to the side to make his way down, this time, when he got to her thigh he licked her shapely muscles, nibbling and kissing too because he could never be satiated. He went down, brushing her butt cheek until lips touched lips, with a chaste kiss he felt how wet she was. How could he resist her?, how to avoid her sweet mewling? He sank in her with his tongue, trying to reach as far as he could, the left hand jostling her leg, opening her for him. Marinette panted, reaching for the pillow to dig her nails there: he was pressing his mouth too, sucking until she could not hold anymore. Her orgasm burned, body confused between the need and the amount of pleasure that was given to drag right to the edge and no more. But Adrien was there, entering two fingers to extend it, swaying them almost violently, hitting that bundle of nerves until she was squirting. When she went down from her high, they both blinked at each other, breaths ragged, his fingers still sensing the way she contracted around them and the wetness that had left a wet mark in the mattress. That Chat smirk crept up and she flushed a furious red in response. He had never made her reach that point, never thought he could do something so magnificent. As a boy, Adrien was lost in his grief and what he could obtain from a rushed orgasm; as an teenage/adult, he restrained, too shy to explore more than he was instructed; now, as a man, he was more than eager to test everything, but not even in his wildest dream he would have imagined making her feel with that force. His fingers left her empty only to be replaced by euphoric kisses, which made her groan, still too embarrassed. Of course, it didn't mattered when he pushed her left cheek to continue an invisible path to her coccyx and up her spine, were his tongue started to feel the line her bones made, then her shoulders, nape, and finally the perfect lips that were calling his name. His fingers reached for her breast and she moaned, still hard and sensitive, while his hips suited against her, sliding his member until it was nestled between her ass cheeks

"Adrien..., please."

He pressed her soft flesh a little bit harder, trying to restrain himself. "Not yet, princess."

When Adrien turned twenty three, he started a relationship with an older woman, a designer who worked on a project with his father for a year. She taught him many things that only experience could provide: how to please a woman, where to touch and how to feel good in the process. That experience showed him that after five years, he still believed of the act of sex as something about giving and taking even if the other didn’t do the same (being mostly the first part). He continued giving everything he had in the need of taking out all his caring, all the feelings he had inside, that fought in a desperate attempt to be recognized by someone. It was all he knew. When Marinette came, she broke all those rules, making it not about how sad he was, or teaching him some lesson, but more of how she would always be the most beautiful thing he had ever had the privilege to touch, it was about love and support. She meant a new beginning, a place where he was safe, where she was the air in his lungs and he was more than grateful for that.

His chest lined up with her back, an arm bracing her with the strong desire of never letting go. As if reading his mind, she pressed her hips against his, soft flesh meeting bones, bodies trying to melt together. Adrien couldn't deny this any longer to himself, much less to her, so he started a slow rhythm that she followed, mouths meeting, broken breaths entwining, and then he took the base of his cock and pressed downwards until her core embraced him slowly, taking every inch. Marinette cried again, a hand travelling to feel him get lost in her insides. There was something precious about entering a woman, all of them different in a way that he couldn’t describe, but he was sure too, now that he had met Marinette, that only with the right girl the sensation could make him dizzy, traveling up to his chest and head, an uncontrollable adrenaline that made him bite the joint between her neck and shoulder. Her fingers caressed his cheek, bringing his attention to her face. That was all she needed to put his world upside down: he didn’t had to be afraid anymore, this was just Adrien and Marinette loving each other.

She saw it in that moment, how he was gone for a second. Marinette knew about his father and how he had been with other women –even though Adrien was a gentleman who always tried not to talk about them more than just what they had taught him–, he had been her world for a long time, even when he wasn’t there. She didn’t need much to understand how he had transformed sadness into a hero’s bravery and puns; loneliness into lust, buried inside the bodies of strangers. She was sure there were instances in which he would remember those feelings, the light dying off of his eyes; there was still too much in his chest that needed time to heal, Marinette was sure of it. She was patient, but it also wounded her not knowing how to help him. On an impulse, she captured his mouth, trying to make him think only on the way she was able to explore him, to push him so that she could straddle him in an instant, make him groan of pleasure now that he was inside her body again. While she moved, sloppy kisses were left, sweet mewls, words not said but felt.

Adrien held Marinette’s hips and down to her ass cheeks, helping both sexes to find each other over and over again, deeply, in desperate motions that left him breathless. She had gone through so much torture that her body wasn’t ready for this explosion of sensations: his hands possessing her, pressing so hard until it became pleasurable. Adrien couldn't control himself, not when she started to contract tightly around him, closer to the end: he had waited too much, now he was suffering the consequences, he was at his limit.

Arms reached for her waist, bracing her in a strong grip that kept her moving. She was so close that her body stopped responding. Marinette couldn’t stand it when he covered her nipple with a lascivious mouth, just to suppress each grunt she takes out of his body. The explosion came again, fingernails holding him in place as she tried to ride her orgasm.

"Fuck… fuck," he breathes against her chest, eyes close, brows furrowed. Her twitching was more than he could endure.

Marinette felt his orgasm approach, she moaned again because of the sensation and how hot and hard he was inside of her, his voice being the confirmation that she needed. Then he switched their positions as to lay over her, hips slamming, pushing harder against her, the noise of the skin finding each other roaring in the room until he was filling her with cum and words of love whispered to her ear.

This, he thinks, this is what he loves so much, this moment in were is not the orgasm –which is very appreciated, of course–, but more about how everything turns white and safe, when he falls to her chest and her arms take him, erasing his past or future, there are just her kisses to his nose, forehead and eyes, an unconditional love tell in such a perfect way. He doesn’t feel sadness or pain anymore, just Marinette’s warmth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (more like a bonus, since is after the chapter)
> 
> "Miss Natalie?, are you okay?"  
> "Y-Yes! I think Mr. Agreste won't need his office cleaned up today s-so, please, you can leave now."  
> "Uh... sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I had an idea for the third chapter? I can't remember, so I will just leave it like this.  
> It's been too long and I actually thought I would never update this, give me some credit, please.  
> The chapter (which is really short, mostly smut 'cause that's what I wanted to write when I started this: kind-of-realistic smut?), had been ready for a long time, but I wanted to correct any mistakes and I didn't had the time until today. Well, the time and the concentration.  
> Anyways, sorry for any mistake and... as a warning, this is totally a plot-what-plot chapter.

Adrien reaches for his phone even before it rings. He knows who is calling, he knows that she probably had promised herself that she wouldn’t do it until certain hour of the night a safe time from his work. He can even picture her looking at her phone every second, waiting for him to text her, trying to distract herself with the tv series she's so into and the thought that only when today’s chapter ends she would call him. He knows very well, they have done this the few past weekends that ended the same way: Marinette alone at home, Adrien at the office. He knew because he had been waiting for her call, he needed her and those beautiful blue eyes, her sweet and shy smile, her voice calling for his name—everything Marinette was.

  
"Adrien, are you okay?," her voice sounded. He also had duties, so he had restrained himself from this moment, because if he listened to her, he wouldn’t be able to recover and really concentrate in work. His back pressed against the chair as each vertebra relaxed for his few seconds of content.

  
"I'm okay, princess. Are you missing me?," she scoffs at the end of the line and he smiles recognizing her flustered reaction: he is right, but she won't admit it.

  
"I was worried, ‘cause is pretty late. Just trying to know if you're okay," her voice softens at the end. She knows how hard this is to him.

  
Staying so late in the office is not the usual, taking care of his father's company has been easier that he thought it would be and for that he can give his thanks to Natalie, but there are certain things that he has to manage personally and this is one of those nights in which he finds himself seated in his father's chair, writing in his father's computer, working in his father's desk—feeling like his father, thinking of him more than he should. He tries to speak, but the pain lingers, it contracts his throat and silence only makes true her fears. They both stay like that a few seconds, even though he wants her to speak, he needs to hear her voice and like reading his mind, Marinette asks softly.

  
"Did you eat?" The smile is there in his lips again.

  
"No, but when I get home I'm sure there will be some croissants waiting for me."

  
"Oh, really?," she hums, almost surprised, "and how are you so sure about it?"

  
"Because my girlfriend is that cute."

  
He can almost laugh his lungs out when he hears something crashing through the phone. He still finds amazing how Marinette can actually feel flustered so badly after a year of relationship. The words 'girlfriend' or 'boyfriend' makes her stutter, rosy cheeks coming alive in the blink of an eye. He likes this, of course, after all there's so much about Chat Noir that has melted in him, a freedom that has transformed his personality into a new one, in which making his girlfriend nervous is a pleasure.

  
"Well," she stammers again, "I didn't know you had a girlfriend!"

  
"No?," Adrien suppresses another laugh, "that's weird, I'm sure the headlines of a whole week were about how we moved in together and all."

  
"Ah, excuse me, I forgot I'm talking to a superstar."

  
He didn't hold it anymore, his chest rumbling with a sound that was almost foreign whenever he left it out in his father's office (that was his now). At the other end of the line, Marinette almost breathed with relief, feeling pure bliss by just hearing him laugh. When he finished, she tried to return to her annoyed act.

  
"Well, yes, that's the life of this knight who only lives for his purrincess," he says. There’s silence at the other side of the line, then, her voice comes full of insecurity.

"Am I really interrupting you, Adrien?"

  
"You know you don't," he responded with sincerity. There was just one last folder he had to read and he would be done.

  
"Mh, still, I should probably go to bed and let you finish so you can be home soon," he let go of a sigh. He guessed she was right.

  
"Okay, I'll let you sleep."

  
"Good, don't be too late."

  
"Mari-"

  
"Hm?"

  
"I love you."

  
He heard her breath hitch and then again he was smiling. His hand reached for his own face, trying to control this delicious feeling that was pooling in his stomach, making him want to run home and smooch away that blush that surely was stretching in her face.

  
"I-I love you too, Adrien..."

  
"Send me a kiss, _purrincess_ ," he sing-songed.

  
"Ugh, goodbye, and hurry up!"

  
The line went off after that, but he still was feeling a lot better. This was Marinette's effect on him, she made him happy, full of hope. His hands rushed to his face again, trying to take away her image so that he could concentrate in the paperwork.

 

 

 

His eyes landed on the folder at his right, Adrien groaned when he realized it was thicker than he thought. When he looked at its content, he saw it was the financial report of the month. He couldn't avoid it. With a frown, he started reading it carefully, a pen on his right hand as he scribbled some notes he would like to discuss with the meeting board on Monday. This is how 2:00 AM struck in his watch, he didn't saw it until noises came from the window—he kind of hoped and his hopes became true when her masked eyes searched for him in the darkness of the room. They found each other. A sparkle reaching him with feelings of love and perfection, she smiled at him, a bowl in her hands that ended up in the end of the desk as she made her way to his seat.

  
“Someone called the Ladyline and begged for her boyfriend to return safe home. I’m here to take you there, mister Agreste”

  
“Well, that really sounds like a hotline,” she stopped midway at his answer. “May I know what number is it?”

  
_Marinette: 0. Adrien: 1._

  
Adrien laughed, trying to make everything less awkward, she was standing so very still, her face fighting in color with her mask. He didn’t thought anything when he said those words, but, really, he was a young man with a hot girlfriend dressed in a tight suit, who could blame him?

  
“Well, perhaps you won’t need a number to have the service.”

  
_Oh_.

  
_Marinette: 10. Adrien: 1._

  
“A-And what does that service implies?”

  
She smiled at his stuttering and he realized she was playing with his sanity, just like she always did when that part of her that stayed mostly when she was transformed, surfaced to control every little detail, making him stay in place: second in command. He wasn't going to put up a fight, he never did, he didn't wanted to.

  
“A little massage to lessen some sore muscles."

  
Ladybug straddled him slowly, her hips falling right where his member was reacting on instinct, just like his hands that grasped her hips, pressing her even more to that part of his body. He rested his back against the chair, wanting to see her now that she was starting a slow rhythm of her hips.

  
"Can I ask how is this supposedly going to relax me?," he whispered against her lips when she reached for them, giving a sweet peck before changing the angle and repeating the action.

  
"Aren't you feeling better, mister Agreste?," Adrien groaned, his hips bucking up to find her warmth. She was going to make him lose his mind.

  
"Not sure, actually," he breathed, pressing her harder against him after absorbing a small mewl he got from her.

  
Without stopping, his hands traveled up, following her curves until he was taking her breasts and she was arching into the touch. She breathed, fastening the movements of her hips. Suddenly, Marinette stopped, gaining a groan on his part. He searched for her eyes and suddenly the detransformation started, leaving her with only a night dress that left nothing to the imagination. His eyes traveled to Tikki, who was puffing her cheeks.

 

"You two need to stop doing this on suit!"

  
"S-Sorry, Tikki...," Marinette sounded so apologetic he almost wanted to laugh.

  
"Hey," he called, smiling at her. Her eyes followed the trail of his voice and he made sure that she found his mouth. He needed her to gain his breath. Her hands were faster than his, opening the zipper and with experienced fingers she found his member, taking it out with a careful but fast pull.

  
Marinette wasn't there to make him wait, that was a big difference between the two of them: when he was in charge, things were slower, he would take his time to make her cum before entering her, to have her so wet that they wouldn't need any time to adjust, because he enjoyed kissing every part of her body, he needed to do so from time to time. Marinette wasn't that patient, so when she was in charge, everything seemed rushed, not that she wanted it to end soon, but it was more about her desperation to feel him. He could relate to it, of course, more now that she was pressing the head of his half-hardened dick against her clit (she had been naked and God helped him), then the inside walls, the cavern that was contracting for him and then again up to her clit.

  
This was so like them: hey could be rough and fast, slow and sweet and change between each way. And some days he was more sensitive, for example right now, seeming how he was starting to ache from just her delicious game of rubbing him against her sex.

  
It took him an enormous amount of concentration to open his eyes and feel her curves through the fabric just to pull her dress to reveal the brownish buttons that were calling him. When his mouth pressed the right one, Marinette pushed him inside of her body. _Fuck_.

  
_Marinette: 100. Adrien: -0._

  
He understood it, she was still playing and he had just lots. He didn’t care, he would lose against her anytime if only he could have her like this. His arms reached for her, taking her round bottom to push himself even more inside her, they both breathed harshly against each other's mouth, the closeness was so needed. She felt so warm and he so thick, that they knew it wouldn’t last long.

  
Marinette started to move in circles and hurried goings and comings as he tried to make her bounce on his cock. The pleasure was taking his breath away, the fight between the two only making everything more pleasureable. He could stand it, he was so close that he has to stop abruptly. In a second, he looks up, searching her eyes, taking the view of her perky nipples, swollen from his kisses; her collarbones, raising with the rhythm of her erratic breath; then her lidded eyes, falling now that the movement had ceased and suddenly he feels this inexplicable happiness: she’s here, always taking so much care of him in any possible way, filling this empty office with delicious memories that would only possibly come with her and Adrien thinks he is the most lucky man in the world.

  
He kisses her on the lips, enjoying the way her weight presses against his belly. He takes her thighs, rising up to sit her over his –not his father's– desk, opening her legs to kiss her clit and the lips, and then with the tongue and finally he is inside her in again, entering with such a force that he has to drag her again to the edge. She hugs his shoulders, feeling his back as she starts undressing him, but there is no time, they just keep fucking until the high hits them hard, pleasure, lights, pain, love, everything and even more. While they try to recover their breaths, he takes her again, bending her and roughly taking her clothes. There’s still so much he wants from her and she is willing to give it to him, only to him.

 

They make love until the sun is up in the sky and Marinette's voice is hoarse. He feels this delicious aching in his bones, a satisfied grin plastered on his face as she hugs to him, completely asleep. He thinks again that Marinette is happiness, dots, and croissants, but above all, Marinette is warmth and he has been cold too long.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read it before, you will find smut, A LOT of smut. There will be oral sex, a lot of it that won't only settle in the front. Do I explain myself? I have the believing this is something that would happen a lot between them, maybe because they're French? Hope that doesn't sound bad. There's rape, nothing explicit or agressive, but rape nonetheless. Angst, of course.  
> ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, SO READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK.  
> I didn't mention it, but in the first part they are like twenty five, here they have twenty six.
> 
>  
> 
> This was so hard to write. I've spent in it more than a week, reading and reading, trying to make something speacial, because since the idea came to my head I wanted it to be something... I don't even have the words.  
> It was supposed to be just angst, but suddenly I started to write smut about them and I thought it would be good to put it together. This is the result.  
> You can read this and not the first part, you won't be lost, but it happens after Only with the moon and the principal idea is the same: Adrien is drawn to Marinette's warmth. Makes any sense?  
> Anyways, hope you like it!


End file.
